


Night terrors

by firefox49



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Sleepwalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25255843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefox49/pseuds/firefox49
Summary: In which Will has started sleepwalking again.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 95





	Night terrors

When Will wakes up, he is standing by a river.

That's odd. The safe house isn't near any river. It's not even near the woods.

Nevertheless, Will wakes up by a river. He's standing upright, in briefs and a t-shirt. He can feel small rocks and sticks stuck into the soles of his aching feet. He sits down, not quite out of his groggy haze, trying to remember what he dreamt, hoping it will provide some insight into why he's here.

Oh, right.

Abigail.

It wasn't a new dream, but perhaps more vivid than it had been in the past. She and him, feeling the cold of the river through their waders. Waiting for a catch. Making small talk, of all things, a heartbreakingly normal thing to be something that he could never have.

The sharp pang of grief wrenched Will into full consciousness. The riverbank was mostly enclosed, thankfully, although a couple of canoers were eyeing him strangely. He waved, slightly awkwardly. He hoped Hannibal would find him.

\---

It didn't take Hannibal long to figure out where Will had gone. After checking the house and frantically ascertaining that this was a voluntary (though unconscious) exit rather than a forced one, he drove to the nearest riverbank, and sure enough, there he was. Sitting cross-legged, looking endlessly tired. He parked and stepped out.

"Will?"

"Hannibal." Will turned around. His strained smile didn't do much to distract from the dark circles under his eyes.

"Abigail?"

"Yeah. Can we go home?"

Hannibal nodded, eyeing him with concern. Will climbed into the passenger seat and they rode back in silence.

\---

The next night, Will dreamt of his dogs. He knew they were in good hands, but missed them nonetheless. Rescuing them not only offset the darkness he felt inside but gave him a purpose, a reason to live day to day life without completely losing it. They needed him.

They didn't need him anymore.

Will woke up wandering down an empty road just before sunrise. He felt gross and hot. Some people were already outside of their houses, faces in varying positions of concern and disdain.

A car pulled up beside him, the window rolling down. Will couldn't help but remember how he had picked up Winston. Except he was the pitiful stray in this scenario.

"Am I going to need to child-proof our house, Will?" the way Hannibal said it almost made it sound like a joke. 

"Maybe, Hannibal." What was meant to be a funny retort sounded more resigned than anything else. Hannibal reached over and opened the door for him. Will was fast asleep before they got home.

\---

The third night, Will found himself in his own mind palace. It was less of a Mediterranean mansion and more of a New England-style house, but with endless corridors and countless rooms in every direction. Behind some doors were golden rays of sunshine. Underneath others seeped dark, fresh blood. There were more bloody doors than he cared to admit. Will wandered through hall after hall before reaching the entrance. The front doors were tall and heavy, with brass handles and ornate carvings of bears, fish, and deer. He ran his fingers across them, feeling each grain of the wood and how it had been carved, improved, made into art.

It wasn't until he turned the handle that he realized they were locked.

That wasn't right.

These were the doors to _his_ mind. _He_ should be the owner of the key. But he checked every pocket, every fold of his clothes, and there was none to be found.

Will began to panic. The blood from underneath the other doors was starting to pool around his feet. He could see light from behind the main doors, but they wouldn't budge. Will pounded and screamed. He scratched until his nails were gone. He was up to his waist in blood now. He tried throwing furniture against them and prying them open. The blood was up to his shoulders. His throat. He tilted his head back for one last gulp of air as it closed around his nose and--

"Will?"

Will jolted awake. There were scratches in the door to his bedroom, and one of his hands was wrapped around the child lock he now remembered agreeing to put there. The door was cracked open, and through it, he could see a worried half of Hannibal's face. He opened it all the way, and the movement made him realize how cold he was, despite being drenched in sweat.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Will?" Hannibal's voice was soft and full of concern.

Will swallowed, realizing how dry his mouth was. He nodded.

Hannibal nodded back, turning toward the kitchen. Will padded behind him, aware of how much louder his footsteps were. Despite being taller, Hannibal had this lithe gracefulness about him, like a dancer, that translated into everything he did. He seemed to glide around the kitchen as he put the water on to boil and fetched the tea bags. Will couldn't help but feel warm when he was around him. Fussing over him like a mother, even though Hannibal had been hurt worse after the fall. Insisting on putting on Will's ointment himself, giving him those worried looks every time he sleepwalked.

"Here you are." Will came back to reality with the clink of the teacup as Hannibal set it in front of him. He did his best to muster a smile and Hannibal returned it, his hand brushing Will's as they exchanged the teacup. Will pretended not to notice. "Would you like to discuss your dream tonight, Will?" Hannibal asked after Will had drunk half of his tea.

Will thought for a moment. "I was... trapped in my own head. Maybe it was just because I couldn't get out of the bedroom, but it wasn't a new feeling. Just stronger now. I felt like a prisoner of my own crimes."

"A loss of control is one of the most frightening things one can experience," Hannibal said. "When we want things from others, we give them a false sense of control so that they are willing to comply. Losing control of one's surroundings is already something that plagues people, but losing control of one's mind is even more terrifying. You must ground yourself when this happens, and remind yourself that you are, in fact, in control. I know this has not always been the case for you, Will," Hannibal looked away from him, "but I assure you it is not something you must fear now. Your name is Will Graham, you are in Cuba, and you are more than your past experiences."

"My name is Will Graham, I am in Cuba, and I am more than my past experiences," Will repeated, reassured but not completely calm. Then he felt Hannibal's hand on his forearm, rubbing circles in a comforting gesture. He hadn't even noticed him come around the table.

"You need to sleep tonight, Will. An irregular sleep schedule is not good for the healing process."

"I don't think that's going to happen, Hannibal."

"Come." Hannibal stepped back, gesturing his head toward his own bedroom. If Will had been a little more conscious, he might even have thought Hannibal looked a little nervous.

Will blinked slowly, then nodded. His heavy footsteps followed Hannibal's light ones into the bedroom. Hannibal rearranged somethings on his chest of drawers for no other reason than to allow Will to get comfortable first, and glanced through a mirror to ensure he got into bed. Then, Hannibal followed, being sure to cover them both with the sheets afterward. He lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

Will felt Hannibal's warmth crawl into bed next to him and immediately felt a wave of calm crash over his mind. Not awake enough for his usual inhibitions, he rolled over and draped an arm across Hannibal's chest, still careful to avoid his injury. He buried his nose in the crook of his shoulder and inhaled, taking in the scent of Hannibal's fancy soaps and laundry detergents. It didn't take him long to have the best nap of his life.

That was the last night Will sleepwalked.


End file.
